


Everchanging Eyes

by TheLibraryLives



Category: Tigress Queen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLibraryLives/pseuds/TheLibraryLives
Summary: Kizarasunga and Jintu learn about each other as they navigate their awkward dealings as ‘husband’ and ‘wife’. Is there a plot - probably not. Updates as I have ideas.
Relationships: Kizarasunga/Jintu
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Everchanging Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So, I really love this webcomic, but I couldn't find any fanfics for it so I decided to write my own.

This was it. Her hair was pinned into an awful ball on her head, tall and severe, but apparently what they called “beautiful”. Everytime she even considered tilting her head, she could feel the strands tighten at the base of her neck, making her eyes water. 

“Just keep your chin up,” Tashti chided. “People will think you’re being queenly.”

“I feel like a wild boar being taken to roast,” Kizarasunga grumbled.

“But you look like a lily in bloom,” the handmaiden chuckled. Out of all the people she had met in the palace, Tashti had been the most understanding. From the moment she stepped foot in the building, Kizara and Tashti formed an unspoken bond, the solidarity of immigrants. After this marriage, Kizara would be tasked with understanding and assimilating with this new Jaezian world. Tashti was the key to that.

“So when you walk down the aisle, you simply stop at the pedestal, wait until the priest recites the vows, and then-”

“We’ve practiced this a thousand times. I know what to do, Tashti.” She knew, and she would. She was ready.

“Then let’s get you married already!” The Gamian beamed into the mirror but Kizarasunga couldn’t return her smile. Lying had never come easily to her.

Gently, Tashti pulled a pin from her hair. And another. And another. Hours of hardwork unravled in five minutes, but Tashti didn't seem to mind. Mischief flickered in her eyes as she laid the last pin on the table.

“We can make him wait a little longer, hmm?”

* * *

Jintu was not happy. At all. Everybody could see that. Literally. Almost the whole kingdom had turned out for this wedding. “The Taming of the Tiger”, they called it, but he knew better. Kizarasunga was to be his wife in name only; honestly, he couldn’t even imagine her any other way. Nothing about her was soft or gentle or elegant. Her hands had crushed throats, could they really cradle a child?

Now there was an image. Kizarasunga as a mother, holding little golden haired children. It startled him, how easily it popped into his mind. He took a deep breath and swept it away. No point in getting sentimental. There was no love in this. No romance. Just respect and duty. And that was enough. It had to be.

Even as he thought it, Jintu could feel a corner of his heart ache. That corner was gentle and elegant and wore purple lilies in her hair, and she was seated in the front row, a casual and cruel reminder of what he was leaving behind. Not that there was anything there yet. But there could have been. She caught his eye and waved. His lips quirked upward in the faintest hint of a smile, before he received a swift kick to the calf.

Rantu smiled widely, which Jintu read as, _You really shouldn’t be smiling at other women on your wedding day. Idiot._

Jintu glared. _She’s my friend._

His brother simply raised an eyebrow and jerked his head towards the entrance.

“Now entering, Kizarasunga Six-Feathers, Queen of the Zizumbir.”

She was dressed in an elaborate Jaezian wedding gown, large and gold and laden with sapphires. Even beneath the wedding canopy, it was iridescent. The dress seemed to be made of infinite folds of fabric that trailed behind her for miles, and the sleeves nearly touched the floor. A gorgeous piece, but that was not why people whispered. 

Instead of being wrapped up in the traditional updo, her hair fell unadorned, save for six golden feathers.

* * *

By the time the ceremony had concluded, Kizarasunga was ready to rip the dress to shreds. Who thought it was a good idea to wear layers when it was blazing hot? She squirmed furiously, trying to reach the damnable hooks in the back, before finally ceding to Tashti’s help.

“Good news, you only have to wear it once.”

“I wish I didn’t have to wear it at all.”

“A small price to pay for peace.” Tashti unclasped the last hook and the dress collapsed in a pool at Kizarasunga’s feet. She stepped out of it and kicked it into a corner. _To Gehenna with you._

“Is it really peace?” The redhead questioned. “These people do not want me. They watched me like vultures, waiting for the calf to become carrion.” She remembered many of the faces in the crowd. They were all smiling, but the chieftain had learned early not to trust the mouths of men. The truth was in the eyes.

Even her brothers’ eyes held venom, although it wasn’t directed towards her. Mostly. She was six-feathers and even beyond that their sister. They would support her decision, even if they did not like it. Even she didn’t like it.

Marriage was supposed to be about love and devotion, the joining of two souls and the beginning of new life. She had dreamed of her own marriage many times. He would be fearless and brave as he declared his love for her before gods and men alike. His hands would be rough from his craft, but gentle as he bound their wrists with ribbon. At night, after their families had eaten their weight in goats, she would lead him to a clearing and he would whisper Kizara beneath a million dancing stars.

Jintu was not fearless. Despite his stern brow and rigid spine, Kizarasunga did not miss how his hands shook as he slid the ring onto her finger. Or how his voice trembled as he said their vows. No, he was a very scared man, but he did not run away. _At least he’s not a coward,_ Kizarasunga smirked. _But only time will tell if he is a lion or a lamb._

“Ooooooh, I am _very_ excited about this.” Tashti bounced out of the closet, holding Kizarasunga’s second dress of the day.

Compared to the wedding dress, it was plain. There were no diamonds or pearls. It consisted of two pieces of fabric, one tied around her chest and the other wrapped around her waist. It was made to model her favorite dress back home, but instead of being plain red, the dressmaker had found a bolt the color of blood with golden flowers patterned onto it. 

The wedding had been planned according to Jaezian tradition, which was fine with Kizarasunga. This sham of a marriage was bad enough, she saw no need to sully Zizumbrian tradition as well. Still, she had managed to win her several concessions, one of which was the dress. The official ceremony demanded an official dress, but the afterparty? That was all hers.

It settled light as a feather on her skin. She kicked her leg high into the air, laughing at the lack of resistance. “It feels wonderful.”

“It looks wonderful,” her handmaiden echoed. “I can get several others made for you if you like.”

“Save that talk for after the celebration.”


End file.
